The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — CompleteLever, Charles
General
The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Complete
Lever, Charles
Fiction
“Of course,” said he, “you will give up ‘sodgering’ now; at the best it
is but poor sport after five and twenty, and is perfectly unendurable
when a man has the means of pushing himself in the gay world; and now,
Harry, let us mix a little among the mob here; for Messieurs les
Banquiers don’t hold people in estimation who come here only for the
‘chapons au riz.’ and the champagne glacee, as we should seem to do
were we to stay here much longer.”
Such was the whirl of my thoughts, and so great the confusion in my
ideas from all I had just heard, that I felt myself implicitly
following every direction of my cousin with a child-like obedience, of
the full extent of which I became only conscious when I found myself
seated at the table of the Salon, between my cousin Guy and an old,
hard-visaged, pale-countenanced man, who he told me in a whisper was
Vilelle the Minister.
What a study for the man who would watch the passions and emotions of
his fellow-men, would the table of a rouge et noir gambling-house
present—the skill and dexterity which games of other kinds require,
being here wanting, leave the player free to the full abandonment of
the passion. The interest is not a gradually increasing or vacillating
one, as fortune and knowledge of the game favour; the result is
uninfluenced by any thing of his doing; with the last turned card of
the croupier is he rich or ruined; and thus in the very abstraction of
the anxiety is this the most painfully exciting of all gambling
whatever; the very rattle of the dice-box to the hazard player is a
relief; and the thought that he is in some way instrumental in his good
or bad fortune gives a turn to his thoughts. There is something so like
the inevitable character of fate associated with the result of a
chance, which you can in no way affect or avert, that I have,
notwithstanding a strong bias for play, ever dreaded and avoided the
rouge et noir table; hitherto prudential motives had their share in the
resolve; a small loss at play becomes a matter of importance to a sub
in a marching regiment; and therefore I was firm in my determination to
avoid the gambling-table. Now my fortunes were altered; and as I looked
at the heap of shining louis d’or, which Guy pushed before me in
exchange for a billet de banque of large amount, I felt the full
importance of my altered position, mingling with the old and long
practised prejudices which years had been accumulating to fix. There is
besides some wonderful fascination to most men in the very aspect of
high play: to pit your fortune against that of another—to see whether
or not your luck shall not exceed some others—are feelings that have a
place in most bosoms, and are certainly, if not naturally existing,
most easily generated in the bustle and excitement of the
gambling-house. The splendour of the decorations; the rich profusion of
gilded ornaments; the large and gorgeously framed mirrors; the
sparkling lustres; mingling their effect with the perfumed air of the
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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